


They think I'm insane, They think my lover is strange

by QueenBoo



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Art boy fielding, Blowjobs, Fluff, Just a ridiculous amount of smut, Light Angst, M/M, Noel gets a bit sad, Smut, The Maison Barteux Show (2010), forgive me Father for I have sinned, handjobs, so does Julian, some angst with your smut?, some smut with your fluff?, they talk (and other things) it out in the bathroom, with a light seasoning of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoo/pseuds/QueenBoo
Summary: Julian and Noel share a moment (or several) in Noel's bathroom after his Maison Bertaux art show.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Julia Davis, Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding, Lliana Bird/Noel Fielding
Comments: 16
Kudos: 18





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Fic entirely based on [this image](https://anciientboosh.tumblr.com/post/636165248979746816/they-think-im-insane-they-think-my-lover-is). The muse saw it and threw a tantrum until this happened. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Dedicated to Mary, my Boosh wife who is always encouraging every idea I have, even if it's pure sin like this will be. <3

To say Noel’s Maison Bertaux show had been a success would be to inherently undersell it. Which, by principle, went against their whole job description. As writers, comedians, and performers in general, their business was to  _ oversell  _ reality so that the average man could find some sort of respite from the dregs of existence. So of course, by sheer propriety, Julian couldn’t call the exhibition anything but a resounding triumph. 

Guests and critics alike had lapped up the artwork; and even Noel flitting from pillar to post in a torn polka-dot dress and a silver bob-cut wig hadn’t put anyone off seeking him out for their allotted socialisation time. All night Julian had only been spared a snippet of conversation here and there, a passing apologetic touch at his elbow, brief eye contact from across the room that spoke to how much Fielding  _ wanted  _ to be in his orbit but was struggling to balance his wants with his career-based needs. 

Art had always been Noel’s first love, Julian didn’t mind coming second for a night or two while the younger man wooed journalists and charmed potential buyers. It was good for him, maybe, to develop some independence from the Boosh. 

Though, he was only human. There was not a thing he could do about the little ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach; ice cold panic at being forgotten about in this new world that Noel seemed to slot into so easily. 

Lucky he had Julia on his arm, really. Most of the night her quiet quipped comments had kept him sane. Especially as Noel had breezed past with a cheeky mutter of,  _ “I’ve taken my pants off.” _ before being whisked away into more conversation. 

Julian had nearly choked on his drink, droplets of it spilling down his chin, and the woman beside him had simply burst into hysterical giggles. 

“Shut up.” He’d grumbled fondly, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He almost wished he’d spilled the alcohol all over himself--might help with the temperature rising under his collar--at least then he could have made his excuses and gathered his dignity in peace.

As it had happened, Julia stepped in. She dabbed at his shirt helpfully with her sleeve, cooing at him in amusement. “Oh honey, has it really been that long.” 

It was not a comment he deigned with a response; but she wasn’t wrong. It had been a busy year thus far for them both, balancing each other, other partners, and their careers--it was spinning plates in the air and he simply couldn’t fight the feeling that sooner or later, something was going to shatter. 

“Get out of your head and go talk to him.” Julia had insisted. “You rather get on my nerves when you’re this desperate.” 

Not only was it the most sensible suggestion she could have made, it was also a genuine one. Since entering their lives all that time ago, Julia had made it very clear that it was never her intention to be in competition with Noel… And so they simply hadn’t made anything worth competing over. Julian’s affection was dished out openly between the people that meant the most; and he was under no illusions that he was the luckiest man alive for finding not one, but two people, with whom to share his life. Personally and professionally. 

What she had said was  _ “go talk to him.” _ but the meaning was quite clearly,  _ “I know how much you miss him.” _

He did. He really,  _ really  _ did. 

Unfortunately the carousel of eager-to-please people didn’t stop; the ebb and flow of crowds around Noel forming a current Julian didn’t want to try and swim against. Instead, he had hung back in the hopes a clearing would appear. A break in the tide. Julia’s disapproving gaze flickered to him frequently in between her own bouts of socialisation. It did nothing but remind him he was a little bit of a coward. Though, in his defense an opportunity never actually arose, he could have spoken to Noel at any point in the evening had privacy not been rather important for what he wanted to say. 

Noel came with an attached harem tonight; he had always harboured an annoying talent for entertaining a room. 

Alas, it appeared that Barratt wasn’t the only one hoping to salvage some time with an as of late distant comedy partner, because as the exhibition wound down, Noel had bounced over on the balls of his feet. When he grinned under all that makeup it was horrific kind of beautiful; the colours were bleeding together thanks to the hours of wear, and it reminded Julian of some of the geometric shapes Noel himself would paint. 

Paintings which, like the artist, Julian would never fully understand but was enticed by regardless. 

“A few of us are goin’ back to mine,” The words themselves were delivered with confidence, but Noel’s eyes gave him away. Storm clouds of uncertainty passed behind his eyes. Blocking out the sun. “Fancy it?” 

As is typical of him, Julian panics. He get’s so wrapped up in whether it would be appropriate to agree as fast as he wanted to, or whether he should perhaps pretend he had plans of retiring first so Noel didn’t think he had been hanging on all evening for an invitation  _ just like that _ . Perhaps, he had even entertained the thought of declining. Instead offering they rendezvous in a few days time on more equal footing; when Julian wouldn’t feel like a man several inches shorter--dwarfed by Noel’s personality in situations like these. 

Julia beat him to any of those responses. “I’d love to, darling, but I’d better relieve the babysitter before my children forget who I am.” 

She had stepped forward to press affectionate kisses; one on each cheek. Noel received them with a smile and retorted. “I always knew you were an overbearing mother, Jules, but lay off a bit.” his smirk, under face paint, rather reminded Julian of a circus clown. “Otherwise how are we ever going to get them in trouble when they’re older.” 

“I’ll only be interested while they’re young and cute. Once they’re five, then you can ruin them.” This time, as she retreats from Fielding, she turns on Julian instead. To his shock, he received the same farewell kisses. 

“Take him home with you, though.” Julian felt his face flush as Noel received the instruction with raised eyebrows. “And sort out his attitude before you send him back to me, will you?” 

Those sparkling blue eyes, a bit loose and champagne-drunk in Noel’s head, swung to him. He was already chewing on his bottom lip, though whether it was to stave off a smirk or a vehement agreement to the woman’s terms, Julian didn’t know. 

After that she had decided that, despite being partial to a show--on occasion, when a lot of alcohol and lowered inhibitions were involved--this was clearly time for her to depart. Julia had blown kisses to Lliana and Dave chatting across the room, had briefly detoured to hug Mercedes before exiting into the cool night air back to their home. 

And Julian was left making dangerous eye contact with the younger half of his writing duo. 

“Coming then?” Noel had teased. 

It wasn’t an offer he’d found himself able to refuse. 

***

The journey home had been pleasant enough, and the fact they had been forced to argue over their method of getting back to Noel’s spoke to the amount of collective alcohol consumed. 

All in all around fifteen people had been deemed important enough to warrant an invitation back to the house of Noel and every single one of them were half-cut if not worse. Frankly the chance of there being enough tolerant cab drivers to cart them all back to their destination was low, but they could hardly walk it either. And Noel had insisted on walking it. 

“It’s a good hour, Fielding, don’t be daft.” Julian was ladened down with the weight of Lliana at that moment, the woman huddling close to him in the hopes of stealing his body heat while she negotiated expertly with a car service. 

“You like it when I’m daft.” Noel pointed out. How he wasn’t freezing his tits off in that dress, Julian had no idea. “It’s why you hang around.” 

Which was a controversial statement in itself. They both knew the reasons why Julian hung around went further and a lot  _ deeper _ than Noel’s propensity for being absurd. But in the middle of Soho surrounded by some of their (Noel’s, a few of these faces Julian hadn't had the pleasure of meeting yet) closest friends wasn’t an ideal place to get into that discussion. 

Julian’s silence had spoken for him, however, and upon Birdy announcing that the cars were on their way, Noel had chosen to ride with people that weren’t him. 

Thankfully, whatever brief sulk had overcome him--Noel was prone to fleeting moods, it was nothing new--had passed by the time they all arrived. The bubbly artist of the hour had returned, unlocked the door for everyone and then promptly set about arguing with his girlfriend (fondly) over what music should be playing. 

It was one of the most surreal experiences in Julian’s life, the few hours that followed. Which was saying something. In years gone by he had been a bit of a partier, in the period before girlfriends and babies, before the press was at risk of spreading your business on the front page. He and Noel had certainly had a select few years of freedom to behave how they’d liked and well, not to blow his own trumpet but Fielding hadn’t been a drinker when he’d met Julian. 

These days fitting into this social shape was a tad unusual. He had passed that behavioural torch onto his younger counterpart and went on to become the responsible recluse of the duo. You were more likely to find Julian passed out from baby-related sleep-deprivation these days than you were inebriation. 

In other ways though, it was a comfort. To have Dave chatting animatedly to him, camera in hand and showing off some of the shots he’d taken that night, while Noel swayed jovially with his girlfriend to whatever tune was blaring. Glasses clinked and disjointed bouts of laughter pierced the air and it was familiar in a nostalgic kind of way. 

Once over this kind of gathering would be regular. Once a week they would come together and watch whatever episode was airing. 

Once over they had promised--their friends and each other--to do it again, but grander, for a film. 

Julian loses himself to the sentimentality of it all fairly quickly. It isn’t until around midnight he cast his eyes around the room and found that the host was in fact conspicuously absent from his own party. 

For some reason, Julian clocked the closed bathroom door almost immediately. The shape of the panel in the frame glared at him, giving away Noel’s location about as intently as if the man had written the words _ ‘I’m hiding in here’ _ on the white wood with neon pink paint. 

There’s no way to pinpoint exactly what it was. Call it a gut feeling. But Noel needed him. 

He was across the room and rapping his knuckles against the barrier before he had even muttered a polite excuse to the group he was chatting to. "Fielding?"

Initially, no response. That was fine though, Julian was used to silence. Noel might have been the chattiest man he had ever come across, but he was also prone to moods.. And partying. The silent treatment or the man passing out were both common occurrences that Julian had more than enough experience with. 

“Noel?” He tried again. This time calling while at the same time pressing some of his weight against the handle. It was not locked. 

The door creaked open, Julian first only peering through the crack lest Noel have actually been fine and in the process of pissing. They’d seen a lot of each other--a lot--over the years but it was best to save them both the tantrum over being interrupted. Thankfully, but also worryingly, Noel was not doing anything that one might normally do in a bathroom. 

A fond smile covered Julian’s face without him giving it express permission, and he slid into the room. The door was pressed firmly closed behind him. 

Noel was reclining in his bathtub. 

“Alright, Ju’yan?” The words, soft around the edges with the effect of the alcohol, were delivered on a sigh. Noel’s eyes were bright but his smile was tainted with his exhaustion. “What’re you doing in here?” 

“Funny you should ask,” Julian returned the sigh, but his was a lot closer to mock exasperation than fond. “I had come for a lie down, but it looks like someone beat me to the idea.” 

Snorting his amusement, Noel gave his whole body a half-hearted wiggle. “I’ll budge over, there’s plenty of room.” 

“You’re being daft again.” With a step further into the room, he took a moment to properly observe the laying man. A lot of his facepaint was fading, scrubbed or sweat off by now, but the red around his mouth lingered. It created a confusing picture when he smiled up at Julian cheekily. “My manly frame would crush you like spun glass. I can’t get in there with you.” 

“Try.” 

“No.” 

Noel rolled his eyes, but his outrage was not strong enough to inspire a pout just yet. Instead he lay there, a marionette with its strings cut. A wind up toy running on only the dregs of its energy. Under all the colours, Julian could see the insecurity. He had seen it at the gallery too, and on the street before they had gotten into their separate cars. 

The wig on Noel’s head was askew, curls of dark hair peeking out, combined with the lethargic drag of his eyelids and the haphazard splay of his limbs in the cramped space of the tub. Julian’s wouldn’t call Noel Hammered but he was certainly a bit drunk. 

One thing had been glaringly obvious, however; Noel had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. Which had been the realisation that forced Julian to shuffle further into the large bathroom and crouch beside the tub; putting himself at eye level with Noel. 

Eyes met his, Noel turning his head to regard Julian with a comically drunken look. One of his eyes has been squinted closed, almost certainly in an attempt to control the drunken swirling of the room around him. Julian knew that look. 

“What are  _ you  _ doing in here?” He asked. 

Noel fumbled his shoulder in a manner resembling a shrug. “Just needed a break.” 

“In your bathtub?”

“It’s cosy in here.” 

Julian took a moment to blink at him. Noel squirmed in place, trying to get comfortable under the scrutiny. He could only repeat, “... In your bathtub?” 

Despite the obvious intent to point out how strange the occurrence was, Noel did not budge. Instead, his eyes hardened with playful defiance, and Julian found a hand being raised to his cheek. Fingers stroked over the rise of his cheekbone and thread through his beard easily. The touch was affectionate, but careful. Like one might handle a small child or someone frail; with care. 

“Does your brain ever get too loud?” The answer was, of course, yes. Julian needn’t say that, though. He suspected Noel already knew, hence asking in the first place. It was another fragment of personality that the two men, so different on the outside, had in common with one another. That their inner monologues could occasionally be insufferable bastards. “And then you add people on top and--and Booze too. It all gets a bit...” 

“Like static.”

“Hmm.” Noel agreed with a hum. His fringe, being trapped under a wig as it was, was not present for him to peer up through as he had a habit of doing; but the effect was still attempted. Vulnerable blinked up at him through dark circles of face paint. “Static can’t get at you when you’re in a bathtub. Everyone knows.” 

“Ah, well, you’re right there.” Julian, rather than hurt his knees anymore by crouching, simply settled to sit down beside the tub. On the lip of the tub he folded his arms, and then propped his chin there as well. “Static men have an aversion to porcelain. It makes their skin crawl.” 

“Static men,” The laughter that came with the repetition of Julian’s joke made his heart swell. 

“The men who bring the static.” He informed, dutifully. “They’re all made of it. They live in the airwaves, hopping between the channels on your radio, just waiting to strike.” 

“Makes sense.” Noel finally drew his hand away from where it had slid to cup the nape of Julian’s neck. Gently plucking the curls that lay rested there. Instead, that hand curled into a fist to scrub tiredly at his eyes. Makeup is smudged further, it was running down his cheeks. “I should paint them. Scribbly blokes with intense eyes and gangly limbs.” 

Julian rather liked the sound of that. “Don’t forget their unnerving smiles.” 

“Why are they smiling?” 

“As uncomfortable as the static is for us,” As he explained, his fingers drummed against the surface of the tub in thought. “But for them it feels,  _ really _ good.” 

“That’s digsustin’” Noel cried. Though his outrage was carried away on a wave of giggles. “God what tiny perverts, the lot of them. I feel all violated they've been in my head now, spreading their static about.” 

“You’ve made a few tiny men very happy for the evening Noel. You should be proud of yourself.” 

In the wake of their amusement, they were left simply looking at one another in silence. Julian attempted to create contact, straightening one of his arms and settling it on top of one of Noel’s. But the bastard man had, for whatever reason, carried what looked to be a mannequin head in here with him. It was resting in his lap and so, Julian was now inadvertently cupping it’s head as he tried to hold the other man’s hand. 

Not that he questioned this occurrence. It was often better not to ask with Noel. 

“So you’re hiding in here from the static men,” Julian clarified, he started to gently tug at Noel’s hand. The other man took the hint fast enough and maneuvered himself into a seated position. Though there was no further intent to vacate the tub. “Is this where you plan on spending the rest of the night?” 

To his credit, Noel appeared to weigh up what he was going to do next. Julian knows better than to assume any thought ever goes into Fielding’s actions, though. Especially when drunk. He had made a pretty annoying habit of being  _ lucky.  _ Vince’s creation hadn't been ideas plucked from thin air, you know. 

Which is why, while certainly surprised by Noel’s sudden need to invade his space, Julian does nothing at all to prevent it. 

Noel’s lips crashed against him in a fashion that was rather clumsy and uncoordinated. With the lip of the bathtub still very much in their way, it took a bit of shifting before either of them found a position that was comfortable. It was still a bit messy, on account of the fact that the younger man was definitely a bit tipsy. Julian’s chest pressed against porcelain uncomfortably, but for the moment it was bearable. 

Reverent hands skimmed up Julian’s arms and sank fingers into his hair, angling his head to a more pleasing position. Julian wasted no time in returning the touch; one hand circled a thing wrist and the other cupped at the column of his neck; thumb poised on a cheek and stroking back and forth comfortingly.

It was easy. Not rushed or frantic. It was as domestic as a kiss has any right to be. The practice of which being age-old. It was muscle memory for Julian to lap at the seam of Noel’s lips until he parted them with a whine. It was expected when careful, petting fingers, twisted and pulled lightly. 

This behaviour, as odd as it may seem to others, was expected. Not only between them, either. Friends and loved ones alike would never be surprised should they be found locking lips in the dark corner of a party. If Noel scrambled up onto Julian’s back and the larger man carried him around for a while, then no eyelids would be batted. No sleep would ever be lost over the fact that on some mornings, as Dave or others had been forced to collect them ready for a press run, they may have emerged from the same bedroom. Items of clothing had been known to be co-owned. Personal space did not exist. 

That was simply how they were. And no one, not even them, questioned or defined it. 

There was never a need. 

Noel slid away, no doubt the position he had twisted himself into becoming a tad uncomfortable. He returned to his reclined position with a half smirk, teeth sunk into his lower lip to contain his amusement. 

Julian has an idea of why he looked so pleased with himself. “I bet I’m covered in lipstick now.”

Squinting at him, Noel tossed one arm behind him, while the other settled casually on his stomach with the head he was previously cradling. “Only a bit. Makeup wipes in the cupboard by the sink.” 

“But those are all the way over there, Noel,” Julian deadpanned. 

“Well I ain’t gonna keep ‘em over here am I?”

“Why not, seems to play into your villainous plans to seduce innocent men and cover them in your  _ markings  _ quite well.” Despite the complaining, Julian does press to his feet and move to retrieve the wipes. Not because he was at all bothered about the evidence of what they’d done being on display, after all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been found suddenly adorning Noel’s makeup. 

No doubt if he emerged from the bathroom kiss flushed and  _ smudged _ then Lliana herself would only slap him upside the head and scold him for not letting her watch. 

It was more for his own comfort than anything else. The sticky substance on his features was already growing uncomfortable. 

“This shade doesn’t suit me at all.” The moist fabric of the baby wipe swept over his features as he spoke. Eye contact with Noel in the mirror is met only with a joyful smirk. At least, since smearing red all over Julian’s features, he appeared to have cheered-up somewhat. 

“Reckon ‘s alright actually,” The other man muttered. “Did you a favour. Lighten that horrifically dull outfit up.” 

Julian rolled his eyes fondly, but returned to his position by Noel’s side without a hint of argument. It’s rather an unspoken agreement between the pair of them. If Noel was going to remain in here, then so would Julian. 

“Is that why you did it,” He wondered aloud. Noel has gone back to staring at him with an unreadable expression. The kind he was known to give half-finished scripts and paintings that were struggling to fight their way from his mind's eye and onto the canvas. “Just wanted to put some makeup on me and decided it couldn’t be done the traditional way.” 

Thoughtlessly, Julian’s hand extended for contact once more. The head is nudged aside so that he could get at the man’s dress clad stomach. He wasn’t entirely sure why his first instinct is to pet in gentle circles like he does to the twins when they crawl into bed with him at 2am complaining of nightmares. 

It seems to work at least. 

Noel has sagged like a relaxed kitten in the tub, his eyes half-lidded where he flicks his gaze all over Julian’s face, as if wondering why that was the question he had chosen to ask. 

It was a good thing to wonder. As a general rule, Julian tried not to ever ask why Noel kisses him. Nor why they do any of the things they do. Mostly because of his deep harboured fear that anything examined too closely was at risk of unravelling. Though, there was also the rather overbearing factor that Noel’s thought process was as changeable as his moods, and a lot of the time asking why would only result in the answer ‘because I wanted to’. 

However, tonight Julian needed the answer. 

Was it that their last interaction like this had been weeks--if not months--ago now? Schedules and personal lives getting in the way of any time for each other. Quite possibly. Was it something in his chest that screamed to be validated after a night of feeling like he was no longer needed? Or worse, that demanded to have Noel all to himself when, arguably, the man should be basking in the attention of others right now. 

Potentially, it was a desperate attempt to make things feel  _ normal  _ again in a way they hadn’t since they had started making time for their own personal projects. 

If Julian had to settle on just one answer though, of why he had chosen this kiss of all kisses to question, it would be because the way in which Noel had kissed him was a little terrifying. 

Noel had kissed him the same way as he had the very first time. When Julian had followed him to his flat and they had spent hours trying to decipher each other’s vaguely flirtation comments until Julian had finally snapped, “Are you actually flirting or not, because this is getting a bit daft?” and Noel had answered with his lips but not his words. 

He’d kissed him like he was scared of what came next. 

Like a goodbye was on the cards. 

Which, even considering it had a lump rising in Julian’s throat and bile sitting like acid in his stomach. More than anything, he wanted to hear Noel say that, that was not what he meant by that kiss. That the strange disconnect between them all night had simply been an unfortunate side effect of Noel being busy. Nothing more, nothing less. 

What Noel said was nothing. At least not for a worrying stretch of time. Julian’s hand had ceased it’s rubbing motion but his fingers had begun to trace small shapes in its place. An action Noel was choosing to watch rather than meet the older man’s eyes. 

“Noel?” Those blue eyes shoot up to him, a little wide and afraid. “You alright?” 

The resolve never lasted long with Fielding. Sadness built up in him like bubbles in an unpopped champagne bottle. Enough shaking and it would spring free. “The exhibition tonight you… You liked it didn’t you?” 

Shocked, he stammers. “Yes, of course I did.” 

Noel narrowed his gaze at him, considering. Teeth pulled at his lower lip and Julian recognised that he’s taking his time to order his thoughts into a neat row before announcing them. “I’m just being daft.” Is what he settled on, a forced smile and a laugh filling the air. “Can’t help but feel…” 

And he didn’t have to say the words explicitly. Julian knows. He and Noel often appeared to be two opposites attracting but on the inside they were very much the same person. Noel just hid his fears from the rest of the world much better than Julian had any hope of doing. It was a daily struggle to keep the lid on his self-loathing while Fielding had learnt how to bolt that box shut years ago… though, things escape sometimes. 

The way he pouted up at Julian is a confession in and of itself. 

_ I feel overwhelmed. Unable to process my own success. Already thinking about the next thing I need to do to stay relevant. Sometimes I think our chosen careers are less like jobs and more like a fight for survival and I feel like I’m  _ losing _.  _

_ I’m losing you.  _

“Noel,” The tone employed was what he had affectionately been told was his ‘dad voice’. Firm but understanding. An order to listen but soft enough around the edges to not inspire fear. Noel quivered in the wake of it, eyes getting misty. “I am so proud of you.” 

It isn’t even Julian simply attempting to be placating to a panicked friend either. It’s a confession the likes of which he cannot find his own words for. A reassurance that just because they appear to be taking their own paths at the moment, they still had  _ this.  _ They always have, and always will have, each other. 

“For everything.” Elaboration may not have been strictly necessary but when Julian gets real he gets awkward. And when he gets awkward his head loses a fraction of it’s control on his words. “You’re getting where you deserve to be, aren’t you? Throwing your own exhibitions is something you’ve wanted to do since I met you. Why aren’t you letting yourself enjoy it?” 

Noel huffed a breath of sardonic laughter, as if he would love to know the answer to that question himself. He wouldn’t be surprised if that is why he had hidden in the bathroom to begin with; an emotional drunk was Noel. He perhaps had found his rather intrusive thoughts a bit too loud in the scenario of a party. 

“You’re going to run yourself into the ground if you never let yourself breathe.” Julian insisted. The hand on Noel’s stomach travelled up and cupped at his cheek. His sharp face is turned delicately in order to force eye contact. “ _ Then _ who am I going to rely on to soften my interactions with the press?” 

Humour was as good a comfort as any to the pair of them. Noel gave a snort of amusement. “God you’re right, without me it would just be you to represent everything we do. We’d be out of work within days.” 

“Might not be the worst thing in the world.” 

“Hmm?” 

“We could retire early.” Julian suggested the idea with a teasing lilt. “Get a cottage somewhere on a cliffside. Big Garden for you to paint in. We’ll let the girls come with us of course, I don’t think they’d stand for being left behind.” 

“Mini Barratts in a bedroom down the hall.” Noel added wistfully. 

“I could start smoking a pipe and wearing cardigans like an old sea captain.” The thought was actually a pleasant one, but not a new one by any means. Julian had floated the idea of a cottage many times previously. Once going as far as insisting they should actually do it in order to get some writing done… In an interview. “Think about it, we could be the strange old men that live at the end of the road but no one ever talks to.” 

“Speak for yourself I’d talk to everyone.” Noel insisted with a grin. Laughter bubbled in his chest, not forced or hollow or bitter like previously. This time real and full of sunshine. “What then? We just disappear from all media. Live on the coast?” 

“Well, until we ran out of money.” Julian reasoned “Or got bored.” 

“Whichever came first.” Noel agreed. 

Not that they could hang on to that fantasy for too long while the sounds of an ongoing party resonated outside of the bathroom door. 

Julian angled himself forward, resting more of his weight against the side of the tub, dipping himself in order to carefully drop his forehead against Noel’s. The younger man raised his hand and laid it on top of where Julian’s larger palm still cupped his cheek. Foreheads together, they sigh a deep, unified breath. 

“You’re a talented artist, Noel. I mean it. I don’t know shit about any of it, but I know you’re  _ good.”  _ The younger man’s breathing hitched slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt. “Don’t worry about me, I’m not going anywhere. Not me nor the fifteen people you have in your home trying to show support for you right now--as difficult as you’re making that.” 

For that, Noel drew away from their intimate embrace to deliver a healthy glare. “Shove off.” 

“I’m serious, we’re here to fellate you and your artistic genius and you’re sulking in the fucking tub!” Julian’s playful chiding is received with attempted swatting, Noel’s glare morphing instead into irritated humour. 

It isn’t solved. Not by a long shot. In the years Julian has known and cared for Noel, the man’s imposter syndrome had a habit of rearing it’s ugly head whenever they achieved anything close to success. And recently, as Julian understood it, it was only getting worse. 

Understandable really, given that Noel and Julian had stood shoulder to shoulder most of their life while fighting to make the Boosh successful. They had cultivated it from nothing more than the seed of an idea into the phenomenon it had become in recent years. They had achieved that through never taking a day off in over a decade. By getting their hands dirty, clawing their way to where they wanted to be. They were laughed out of meetings and rejected over and over again for various proposals but it was fine because they had propped one another up when they needed it. 

Neither of them had a chance to believe they weren’t good enough, not with the other ready to go head to head with said thoughts. 

Now? Noel was going it mostly alone. 

The man was not a workaholic by choice; rather a deadly combination of love for his craft and the sickening fear that if he wasn’t constantly producing he would go mad. Be left behind. Lose whatever it was that made him special. 

Julian may have successfully calmed the beast for now, but who was to know when it would appear again. 

In his rediscovered happiness, Noel tangled his fingers into his hair once more, the intent being to pull him down into a kiss no doubt. But Julian won’t allow it. Before their lips can meet, he has turned his head away so that the kiss lands on his bearded cheek instead. “I just cleaned your smudge off my face, we aren’t doing this again.” 

“Thank you,” Murmured into his cheek, Julian dropped his hand to the man’s bony hip and squeezed comfortingly. 

“Like I have told you many times before,” He replied. “We can’t both do the self-loathing, depressed, thing. No one would entertain us as comedians. Why do you think I don’t stand-up anymore.  _ I  _ don’t even take me seriously.” 

“You’re still funny, thought Julian.” 

“Oh I know, but only when I’m scripted to be.” 

They shared a giggle, Noel rolling his eyes and Julian discovering enough humour in flirting with the boundaries of his own self-worth for the sake of comedy, that they successfully rooted themselves in normality once again. 

“Are you ready to go back out yet?” After a beat, Julian carefully floated the idea, but the suggestion was received with a shake of Noel’s head. Gradually, his sunshine persona was slotting back into place. Piece by piece. 

“Just five more minutes.”. 

Julian could work with that. Slumped and a little drunk as he is, Noel doesn’t argue when Julian resumes his comforting petting, rubbing over his stomach and chest as calmingly as he dares. And despite having plenty to say about them getting makeup all over his face, Julian had tilted his head forward to rest their foreheads together once more. 

Close but not kissing, they were just existing in each other’s spaces. 

Until of course, as Julian had expected to happen hours ago, Noel gets restless at the lack of attention. As his mood returned to its usual state; cheeky with a side order of needy, he took matters into his own hands. Slim fingers caught at Julian’s wrist to stop the careful caressing of his tummy, and it is nudged, just once, a little further south. 

Julian blinked his eyes open to meet Noel’s twisted smirk and he couldn't help himself but to put on airs of annoyance. “Oh I see,” He grunted, sliding his palm confidently down the front of Noel’s body, not missing the way he shivered under the touch and Julian’s firm gaze combined. “Lure me in here and pretend to be sad so you can have a shag, is it?” 

Noel shook his head, but made no comment otherwise. Julian’s hand trailed away from fabric and onto bare thigh, but there it paused. “You’re a tart,” He hissed as his fingers dug into the thick muscle a little harder than strictly necessary. 

Noel sunk his teeth into his lip and forced his squirming body to remain still. 

As much as Julian imitated annoyance about this turn of events, though, he’s nowhere near. Without sounding rude in the face of Noel’s success and sadness and everything in between--well, Julian had been gagging for it since Noel had sidled up to his side and announced he wasn’t wearing pants. 

Now, he was understandably a little impatient for the main event. 

He was typically the master of teasing. Would draw out any act of pleasure until Noel was whimpering and begging on whatever surface Julian had laid him out on. But, it was clear they were as wound up as each other presently. Noel’s insisting hand has retreated from Julian’s wrist and instead both his fists are bunching in the fabric of his dress. Waiting patiently for Julian to act. 

Julian waited no longer, he slid his hand up, under the polka dot fabric and confidently cupped at Noel’s rapidly hardening prick. The man whined high in his throat and turned his face in search of a kiss--needy little bitch--but Julian wasn’t folding so easily on that one. 

He buried his face in Noel’s wig instead, aching to pull it from his head and nose as the real, fruit scented strands. His free hand was still resting along the lip of the tub, he could have done it if he really wanted to, but unfortunately Noels’ fidgeting fingers rose up to grab at it instead. 

Julian was just kneading. Circling his palm in tight little circles over Noel’s cock, warming him up. He wanted him to get himself desperate and wild for it, and he was certainly headed in that direction if the lazy rolling of his hips was anything to go by. 

Noel quickly changed his mind about holding onto Julian’s empty hand; instead he had set his sights on a new target. Shaking fingers rose to the buttons on Julian’s shirt, flicking a few of them free from their place. Not all of them, however. Only enough that Noel could slide his palm between the fabric and grope at Julian’s chest as much as he was able from the angle. 

It wasn’t much of a reciprocation but after the night they had both had, Julian was happy to simply take care of Noel. If he wanted a sloppy hand job, to come quickly with a tit in his hand, Julian wouldn’t begrudge him that. 

Fully hard, Julian finally wrapped his fist loosely around Noel’s cock and gave it a slow firm stroke. 

He was just about to start the  _ really _ good bit; the part where he would expertly wank Noel to orgasm while whispering sin in his ear just how he liked it. He would have dipped his head over the lip of the tub to suckle at the column of his throat too but--

Just as the thought entered his head there was a jovial cheer from outside. The door handle was rattling with the intensity of someone who knew fine well it was not locked but believed the occupants of the room needed a few seconds of warning before they were exposed. 

Julian had only a split second to remember that he  _ definitely _ didn’t lock the door before he was withdrawing himself and the door itself swung open on it’s hinges. 

Dave was revealed, camera in one hand, smirking like the cat that got the cream. “They’re bumming in the bathroom!” He called over his shoulder, and to be honest, whether he had meant it as a serious response to a question, or a joke, it was received with hearty laughter. “C’mon lads, you’re missing all the fun out here.” 

And before he turned on his heel to go, he made a point of raising his camera and snapping a photo. Julian grimaced suitably, Noel might have given his little mannequin head a peck. The picture of two drunk friends bonding in the bathroom. Probably (hopefully) no trace at all of their chosen method of bonding. 

And with that Dave was gone. 

“We better go back out.” Noel muttered in annoyance. “Before Li comes in here to get a look.” 

“Are you in any state to go back out?” Julian made a point to glance at his crotch. Noel simply giggled, however, rather than answer he stated to lever himself to standing. 

Julian is forced onto his feet just so he could be there to prevent the man from toppling over. A combination of the dress, the gold boots, and the alcohol made for an unsteady Fielding it seems. Noel clung onto his arms as he stepped out of the tub one booted foot at a time. 

“I’ll be fine.” He promised adamantly. 

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” 

For a moment, Noel considered him in silence. Dainty fingers were still fisted in the sleeves of his jacket despite the fact there was no real need for him to be holding on anymore. The younger man rocked onto his toes to press a shy kiss to Julian’s cheek and whispered; “Wanna stay for the  _ after _ , after party?” 

How could he turn down an offer like that? 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _after _after party__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. It's just 5k of porn with a seasoning of feelings. 
> 
> I'm sorry.

Waiting for everyone to filter out of the flat took some time. Noel had never been in the habit of kicking people out of a good party. Which, if it’s a gathering of his own, it was almost certainly going to be a good party. So, like the perfect host, he entertained. He poured drinks and engaged in hilarious conversation. He wooed, he charmed, he joked. 

Most importantly he pretended not to feel Julian’s eyes on him like the drag of fingertips down his spine. 

At around two in the morning is when most of the partygoers began to hit the road. They ventured into the night in search of their own homes, or at least somewhere to keep drinking that isn’t hinting for them to make merry elsewhere. Apparently, subtlety had not been either of the Boosh boy’s forte. Noel couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Even Lliana had pressed a kiss to his cheek and informed him she was off to stay at one of their friend’s places, because she was not blind and Julian was looking at him like a starved lion might watch a baby gazelle. As much as she, tipsy as well, had been hanging off Julian's arms and pouting, there was a line between your new girlfriend accepting that she had to share you and actively being exposed to what that sharing entailed. 

Maybe one day, after all, it never failed to be a source of  _ enjoyment  _ for Julia when the boys got a bit handsy with each other. Or more. But Noel wasn't about to throw away the chance at real connection with Li by throwing her in at the deep end. 

Eventually it had just been the two of them. 

At which point Noel had made a basic effort to tidy up the flat around him. After snogging in the bathroom, Noel had swiped his face free of the remaining makeup; he’s more his natural self now as he scooped up empty champagne bottles and tucked away used glasses. Since making his proposition, Noel had at least made an effort to drink a glass or two less to stave off the lingering hangover in the morning. 

Julian, at least, was also helping. He shut off the music and flicked off the lights. In a strange way, it was a kind of foreplay. They’d steal moments of eye contact as they tidied, hands would touch hips as they walked past each other. There was no sound but the rustling clothes and their hushed breathing. 

Noel’s resolve only lasted thirty minutes. Long enough to make sure he was not left with a huge job to do tomorrow, and then he was stepping into Julian’s space. The man already knows what was happening. He stopped what he was doing, set the empty bottle he’d been holding down on a nearest surface, looked down at Noel’s features with patient expectation. It’s like he’d known they were waiting for Noel to be ready. 

Noel was ready. 

Smaller hand slipped into a larger one, Noel only needed to give a tug and Julian, of course, followed him. Most of the flat was dim, but he knew where to step over to avoid art supplies and where to guide Julian around discarded clothes. He led him to the bedroom, dimly lit by a singular street lamp and the moonlight that filters through the window. A palm in the centre of Julian's chest urged him to sit on the foot of the bed and then Noel stepped back. 

The boots came off first, shortening him by a good four inches, and then the wig was pulled free and tossed to the other side of the room. 

He was about to lift the ripped polkadot fabric of the dress over his head but Julian's fingers at his wrist prevented that action from going any further. 

He didn't say anything, he never has to, the man has gotten good at using action to convey intention. Julian used a gentle grip to remove any possibility of the dress coming off, and instead tugged Noel into his lap. Now that they had the time, there was no need to rush their actions. Noel settled on his knees, thighs spread over Julian's hips. Sat up on them, the position made him taller for once and Julian had to tilt his head back to connect their lips. 

Neither one of them was leading the action, per se, sex has never really been like that with them. Power was given in equal turns no matter who was actually doing the fucking. A combination of them both knowing what the other might want, but also being just the right amount of selfish to demand what  _ they  _ needed too. With Noel and Julian, sex was a give and take. Everything was a give and take. Performing. Writing. Everything down to the kissing. 

Noel might have been the one to thread his fingers into the curls at the base of Julian’s skull and direct his head into a more pleasing angle, but in the same breath Julian was lapping at the seam of his lips and probing into Noel's mouth with his tongue. 

This dance was nice to indulge in for a while. A routine they have known their whole lives; choreographed to the beat of their hearts and the rasping rhythm of their breathing. Their three step waltz; a shift of hips, a pull of teeth at a lower lip, scratch of nails at his scalp. The metrognome of their gasps ticked on, and Noel adored it. 

But at some point, one of them had to seize brief control in order to advance proceedings. On this occasion, it was Noel’s job. With the palms he had cupped on Julian’s shoulders, he gave a gentle nudge. Julian reclined willingly, he leant back on his elbows, unwilling to lay completely back and instead choosing to watch with a hungry gaze as Noel pulled at his belt with nimble fingers. 

Truthfully, so much was rushing through his head that he wanted to do and have done to him tonight, that he wasn't thinking any further than getting Julian’s jeans off. They could have begun with the top half, with Julian's jacket and the shirt Noel had already started unbuttoning earlier in the night, but there were far more appetising things hidden within the confines of his flies, in Noel’s opinion. 

They don't even come off, not yet, Noel was too eager to do  _ anything _ that he unzipped Julian’s fly and dipped his hand under the cotton boxers. Pants and jeans are tugged down just enough to expose Julian’s cock to the air, half-hard and flushed, and then Noel was sliding out of the older man’s lap until his knees hit the floor. 

Julian gave a little groan of appreciation just for the sight alone, and the sound made something sinful flutter low in Noel’s stomach. 

Denim clad legs either side of his head widened, making more space for Noel to lean forward and mouth at the base of Julian’s prick. The rough fabric of the denim rubbed at his cheeks as he titled his head, dipping his head low to suckle at his balls. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Julian sighed, a large hand settled on Noel’s head, curling in the dark strands of his hair. It wasn't trying to guide him. It simply rested there, giving Noel something in return; Noel isn’t afraid to admit he rather liked the sting when he delivered a firm lick from root to tip and Julian  _ pulled.  _

Noel grunted into the sensation and wrapped his lips around the head of Julian’s cock, suckling lightly, swirling his tongue. He has barely started this blowjob and he was already intending to make it the best he’s ever given. 

He does, after all, make a point to be good at oral sex. 

For a few minutes, this is all he does. Kissed and licked Julian to full hardness; hissing through his teeth when the man rewarded him with a tug on his hair. He would suckle at his balls for a few seconds and then mouth at the head. It was imperative to keep Julian on his toes; to make each aspect of pleasure as unpredictable as their comedic style. Driving him wild was just the beginning. Julian's thighs trembled either side of him. The larger man’s free hand twisted roughly in Noel’s colourful sheets. 

If he wanted to, Noel could have made him come like this. But he didn't want to, what he did want to do is force him as close to the edge as physically possible. So he pulled out a trick he rarely used these days. 

Glancing up, Noel made insistent eye contact with Julian--smug to see how unfocused and desperate the man's gaze was--and sunk his lips lower on Julian’s length. It was a slow, deliberate movement, insistent, until Julian’s prick hit the back of his throat and he could swallow around it. 

Julian’s fingers were rough on his scalp, a fistful of Noel's hair was at risk of being torn free. Noel’s eyes were watering but he loved it. He drew back just enough to catch his breath and then used his palms to encourage Julian’s hips into steady movement. 

As soon as he realised what Noel was getting at, Julian cursed the air around him  _ blue _ . Carefully, so carefully Noel almost rolled his eyes, Julian arched his hips upward. Noel bobbed a little with the movement, encouraging, and after two gentle thrusts, Julian gained confidence. He used his tight handful of Noel’s hair to guide his head, and begun to build a rhythm, fucking into Noel’s throat with a mantra of ‘ _ fuck fuck fuck’ _ . 

Noel couldn’t return the sentiment in as many explicit terms, but he was whining and moaning around the cock in his mouth like a tart. Tucked up his own dress, Noel was trying to relieve some of the pressure between his legs. Teasing featherlight touches up and down his own shaft. 

One of Julian’s curses went up in pitch; and Noel was fairly sure he was going to lose a few strands of hair if he wasn't careful, and that’s how he knew it was time. 

With enough force Julian couldn't ignore him, Noel started pulling away. 

With a frustrated grunt from Julian--frankly more of a growl, one that sent heat licking down Noel’s spine--Noel rocked back onto his heels and heaved ragged breaths. Julian sagged to laying, hands pressed over his eyes as he breathed deeply. Wrangling oneself back from the edge of (what would have been) a pretty mind-blowing orgasm was devastating, Noel imagined. 

Pity. 

It did absolutely nothing to stop him smirking sinfully over Julian's pathetically rustled state. 

Noel took a moment to catch his own breath. Appreciating the state he had put the other man in. It was not often big stoic Julian let himself be so unabashedly wrecked. Especially not lately. Was it perhaps a bid for attention, Noel sulking off into his own bathroom mid-party. Well, not at first, but since it had worked so well perhaps he should have thought of that first. 

Julian's attention was harder to keep as of late. If that was the winning ticket, Noel should take notes. 

Their breath synchronised, Noel leapt back into action. He scrambled up the bed. Settling on Julian’s lap once more, Noel tucked his dress up around his waist so he could grind his bare arse down on the wet length of Julian’s spit-covered cock. 

It was nowhere near enough to get him there, but enough sensation to keep him tantalisingly wound up. 

Julian dragged his hands away from his face and instantly reached out for Noel. Noel reached back. “You’re a bastard.” Julian breathed, and the second that their fingers touch, Julian yanked him forward to growl curses directly into his mouth. “A  _ fucking _ tart, you are.” 

“You love it,” Noel teased, voice raw and rough. 

The only response Julian gave was to throw an arm around his waist and roll them over. Noel landed on his back with an  _ ‘oof’ _ , and Julian sat up to start shedding himself of his clothes. His jeans and pants kicked off, his jacket shed. 

He only got halfway through unbuttoning his shirt though, because Noel was an impatient harlot when it came to Julian and fisted his fingers in the material; pulling him back down by the open edges of his shirt and crushing their mouths together. It was a last ditch attempt to maintain an ounce of influence, one that fell on deaf ears. 

The leader of this waltz shifted once more, Julian spent barely a minute biting kisses and thrusting into his mouth with his tongue, before retreating. Teeth filled kisses impress across Noel's jawline and down his neck. 

Noel caught his lower lip between his teeth as the older man came to a stop at his collar bone and bites down; pulling skin between his teeth and sucking on it to leave a--likely the first of many--mark there. 

Even when not the one holding all the cards, Noel was still aiming to please. They’d been doing this far too long to not know what the other likes; Noel tipped his head back obediently to allow Julian’s wandering mouth free roam. He raised his arms, crossing them at the wrist and laying them above his head. From Julian’s angle he was the picture of submission and it works exactly how he had hoped. 

Casting those warm brown eyes up, Julian sighed pleasantly against his skin. “Such a good boy for me,” 

The praise made him shiver, and exactly what he’d needed to hear after his minor meltdown in the bathroom. So much so that he whispered, “Tell me again.” 

Julian hummed, pressed one kiss to the corner of his jaw and then licked at the shell of his ear. “Good boy,” He rumbled again, Noel whined into the air. 

One paw pressed at Noel's hip to keep him in place, Julian rummaged around in the bedside drawer for the lubricant. When he sat back on his heels in between Noel's spread thighs, Noel found his polkadot dress hiked about his waist so Julian could admire him for a second. 

Noel watched with half-lidded eyes as Julian coated one hand in the slick substance and used it to jerk Noel's cock a few times. Teeth gritted, Noel's head rolled about on the pillow. He clenched his fists, but he didn't move an inch beside that. Julian got off on him like that, he knew it. That's why the man was sat up on his knees observing him like a hungry dog might observe a steak. 

With ravenous hunger. 

It didn't take long for even Barratt to get bored of that game, though. Hands retracted, Noel was left breathing heavily up at the ceiling; listening to the snick of the lubricant bottle. Slick fingers slid between his cheeks and circled his entrance. Noel cursed. 

Not that the teasing bastard did anything but circle for an achingly long time. Noel had to drive his hips down to make him take the hint. 

"Impatient?" Julian teased. 

" _ Now _ who's being a tease," Noel hissed. He lifted his head just long enough to make defiant eye contact and then Julian sunk a finger into him. So he was fairly sure the whine and canting of his hips meant he didn't look nearly as intimidating as he'd have liked. 

"I'm not the one running about with no pants on." Julian scolded lightly. One finger moving in and out of him at a leisurely pace while the other hand grabbed a healthy handful of Noel's arse. 

Noel dropped his head back to the bed, swallowed thickly, but didn't comment. 

Julian's smug was palpable in the room. Noel shivered as his one finger became tow, pressed softly inside him and crooking deliciously. 

"Okay?" Came a gentle inquiry; Noel nodded his head in response. 

This never really stopped between them, the connection, the sex, the intimacy. But it fluctuated. They were busy men. They were boyfriends to other partners. They worked. Julian raised children and Noel raised his own profile. Things sometimes got in the way. They'd disagree and fight, or sometimes, they would simply just want to do other things together than have sex. 

And maybe it had been a while since the last time Noel had Julian's fingers scissoring so  _ perfectly _ inside him. "Fantastic," he breathed in response. Julian chuckled. 

So it goes like that. Julian made the most of his brief spate of control. Spread and crooked his fingers, rubbed and teased at Noel's prostate. Alternated between careful slow pumping of his wrist and rough twisting jerks that leave Noel keening like a fussy puppy. He was dizzy in the high that only Julian could give him. No other drug could send him to heights like this. Keeping track of the rhythm is hard, it always is, Noel was good at keeping Julian on his toes but the same was true in the reverse. 

Eventually it led them, this improvised routine, to Julian leant over Noel's body. One hand still tucked between their legs fingering Noel with rough twisting jerks of his wrist. Noel's sweet spot being teased beautifully. Julian's other hand was wrapped solidly around Noel's wrists above his head; pinning him in place. Noel was frantically moaning, whining high in his throat, eyes squeezed shut and his hips rolling (into or away from) the rough jabs at his prostate on every other press. It was Julian trying to get him back for nearly making him come before, but he couldn't find it in himself to complain. 

"Ju.." Noel begged, his thighs shook where he'd secured them over Julian's waist. 

Julian hadn't taken his eyes off Noel's face in some time and now he smirked sinfully down at him. If Noel had any sense of mind he'd call him a freak for how much this got him off. The control. "Don't come." Julian ordered. 

"I'm--  _ ah!"  _ Noel tossed his head back on a hoarse cry as Julian chose that exact moment to jab at his prostate on every pass. 

"Don't." He ordered again. 

Noel briefly spared a thought for the noise complaints he was probably going to get, given that he was cursing Julian's (or praising it, who knew the difference anymore) name at the top of his lungs for the following minute and a half that the older man tortured him. 

And he wanted to be good. He knew he  _ could _ be good. In years gone by they could have been at this for hours, driving each other to the edge but never quite going over. Teetering on that cliff edge together and giggling like food the entire time. But it'd been a while and Julian was fucking him  _ expertly _ with his fingers. Their eyes locked, an expression so  _ fucking filthy  _ on Julian's face, and Noel was done. 

"Julian, Julian,  _ Julian-- _ " He cried, tears welled in his eyes. 

He'd fallen backwards over the edge of the abyss. Eyes closed. His fate was sealed. 

"It's okay," Julian comforted, releasing his grip on Noel's wrists just in time to scoop him up and crash their mouths together. 

It was all the permission he needed to come between them with a sob, actual tears leaking from his features. The sound he made was one step away from a pained cry, and Julian swallowed it whole. 

Julian withdrew his hand, and the urgency to his kisses died down. He was left just delivering soft little pecks to any inch of Noel's face. Urging him back to earth from the heavenly heights he had been sent to with Julian's fingers. 

Noel was still heaving deep, shaking, breaths as he was laid back on the bed by an overly careful Julian. Tears were wiped from his cheeks with delicate thumb strokes and sweaty hair was brushed from his forehead.

After a moment, Julian ceased his petting. "You alright?" 

"I wanted to-" 

"Shh, it's alright." Kisses were patterned on his cheeks, his neck, his forehead. It was a comfort Noel hadn't realised he'd needed, but in the aftermath of his apparent inadequacy (both professionally from earlier and sexually right now) he finds it was like sinking into a warm bath. 

He was no longer worrying about keeping Julian's attention. He knew he had it now. 

"You were amazing." Julian complimented again. This time, Noel found the energy to grin dreamily up at him. "So good for me."

Finally, Julian slipped out of his shirt and helped Noel peel the dress over his head. The fabric is used to clean up the come from his stomach haphazardly, then, the older man laid on his side by Noel. A hand on Noel's chin tilted his face to keep laying affection on him. 

It took a second, but once Noel's brain returned to online. He had a mission. As they kissed softly, Noel's hand migrated between them and took Julian's length in hand. A few firm strokes made Julian hum pleasantly into their kisses, rolling his hips into the motion. 

And like the two-step of a dance move, the leader of this rendezvous switched to Noel once more. He curled his fingers in Julian's hair and rolled them both so Noel was straddling his hips. Noel being able to jack him off and control their kiss in one swoop. 

Julian let him, likely more than aware that his time was over and okay with it. 

Noel hadn't come that hard in weeks but he's also got pretty impressive stamina (if he did say so himself). Give him a second and he might just be back on the horse--so to speak. There was certainly plenty of time for him to get himself there if Julian could last with him. 

The kissing stopped long enough for Noel to blindly grab the lube and slick Julian's cock. The man beneath him barely got a second to comprehend before Noel was lowering himself onto his prick and sighing; high and effeminate in his throat. 

Julian's hands scrabbled at his waist and it was clear he didn't know whether to pull Noel down onto him or stop him. Either way he ended up just grasping at him tightly and swearing under his breath. 

Noel waited until he's fully sheathed before giving his hips a roll. Not lifting them, just grinding in shallow circles that left Julian panting. His spent cock gave a little twitch. 

He kept this up for a few minutes--Julian letting him do as he pleased--grinding down, gyrating himself in slow, sensual circles. The older man's fingers pressed into his skin almost bruisingly, and when he's had enough of the teasing he pressed with enough hint to make Noel rise up off his cock a little before sinking back down again. 

They moan in harmony, Noel's a little pitched up. It’s the sweetest music they have ever composed together, this kind. It will be stuck in Noel’s head for weeks. He scooped his cock up and strokes himself, desperately trying to recapture his arousal. It was there, tingling at the base of his spine, but it was distant and dull. He was going to need a second longer. 

So he made sure Julian felt good in the meantime. 

One hand planted on the man's broad chest, Noel plucked and rubbed at his nipples--he had always loved Julian's tits--while Julian hissed and grunted. Julian, on the other hand, used the grip on Noel's hips to urge him on; Noel is more than happy to oblige; bouncing on his cock as energetically as he dares. 

It was becoming a race to the finish line now. Noel’s cock perked back up; he fisted it quickly in a loose grip, fucking himself on Julian's cock and whining like a tart the entire time. They were both nearly there, he could hear it in the way Julian swears his name. It dripped down his spine like honey. Pooled in his stomach; thick and warm. 

So rightfully, Noel was infuriated when Julian hauled him off his lap--as if he was weightless--and separated them. "Fuck,  _ what the fuck _ \--" Noel’s angry tirade is halted in its tracks by the way Julian gripped at his face and licked viciously into his mouth. 

“Get on your knees." Julian snarled. 

Okay, he could work with that. Noel did; dropped onto his hands and knees and waited as Julian lined himself up once more, and slid into him. Exhaling on a whimper as he was filled once more, Noel braced himself against the bedsheets. Not to be crass, but he had been expecting to be  _ used. _

That was not what had happened though, Julian instead wrapped an arm about his waist and sat back on his heels. Noel dragged with him. They end up sat, Noel in Julian's lap, his knees bent and their calves aligned. Julian hadn't much movement like this, nothing more than the ability to grind up into him, but it's perhaps more intimate for that fact. 

Noel was choking on Julian’s dick not too long ago, but this somehow felt a lot more exposing than that act ever would. This left him vulnerable to any and all affection Julian wanted to lay on him. Broad palms swept across his chest. Plucked at his nipples. Fingers played across his lower stomach making Noel’s muscles contract sporadically. The entire time, Julian’s hips gyrated; the combination of sensations was intoxicating. 

Noel dropped his head back against Julian's shoulder as the older man sucked lightly on his sweat soaked skin. One hand is tossed behind his head to pull at Julian's hair, and Noel moans from the centre of his chest as one of Julian's free hands wrapped around his length and jerked him with sloppy movements. 

It didn’t take much longer. They'd been pushed to the edge and back enough times that this was a long time coming. The frantic pace of earlier died away. They were just grinding deliciously into one another. 

Noel tensed, arched his back and pulled Julian's hair as he came for the second time that night. He was so strung out that there was nothing more than a contented sigh escaping from his lungs. Shortly after, Julian stilled and came too. Noel whimpered as he felt it fill him up. 

They sagged but they didn't let go of each other. Not for a while. Julian keeps him hugged close as they catch their breath, and eventually it was Noel who shifts to separate. 

He ventured to his bathroom, wet a flannel and returned with a soft smile on his features. Nudging Julian into a reclining position, Noel wiped him down, wiped himself down, before tossing the flannel off into the pile of clothes they'd abandoned earlier. 

Julian gaped at him. "That's disgusting."

"Shut up," Noel rasped; voice hoarse from overuse. "I'll clean it up in a little while."

"First cuddles." Julian said it like he was taking the piss, but his face is soft and warm. "Come on then, you big softy."

"Don't pretend it isn't your favourite part too." Noel climbed into Julian's waiting arms and pulled the comforter up over them both. Settled against the larger man’s chest like a homing pigeon returning to roost. It was comforting. It was familiarity. 

It was home. 

"I don't have a favourite part,” Julian muttered into a yawn. “I like all of it." 

"Liar." Noel accused playfully. He turned his smirk into Julian’s neck. "You definitely think it’s  _ pretty great _ when I let you fuck my mouth." 

"That’s because it’s the easiest way to shut you up for ten minutes." As he spoke, Julian traced soft fingertips over the notches of Noel’s spine. In his head, Noel is trying to understand what he might be drawing. "But I wouldn't say that was my  _ favourite _ part."

"Then what is?" 

"Christ fielding I just came, do we have to do twenty questions right now." And despite how Julian had sighed his annoyance, there was a lilt to his tone indicative of his amusement. Noel latched on to that. 

Like an ink droplet in water, it only served to spread the idea further. “It's important."

"Why?"

Noel was only doing a half-arsed job--at best--of disguising how hilarious he found this train of conversation. “It's how I’ll determine when you next get to lay your northern paws on me."

Let it be known, Noel and Julian had been writing together far too long for either of them to be any good at hiding meaning between lines anymore. Julian saw through him the second the joke was out of his mouth; it is evident in the way his features softened. 

It wasn’t so much; ‘ _ tell me your favourite part. It will be funny’  _ it was much closer to ‘ _ tell me what I can do to keep you interested.’  _

Not that either of them were great at extracting subtext and confronting it, either. Julian instead, rolled his eyes. He considered the question in silence for a beat, the fingers on Noel’s bareback stilled in thought, before he settled on his reply.

"I like the look on your face just after you've come." Julian decided. “I think that's the most switched off I've ever seen you. Just… Blissful. Floating on a soap bubble somewhere no one else can reach you. It’s where you belong… up there where people can’t get their dirty fingerprints all over your pretty skin."

Noel had no idea what to make of that. Not in any serious capacity. Unwittingly, or perhaps,  _ pretty fucking on purpose _ , Julian had just laid his cards on the table. He was staring down at Noel with hazel-hope-eyes, waiting for the younger man to scoop them up and add them to his hand. 

He didn’t pick them up. Noel swallowed thickly and took the easy option. He joked about it instead. “Trust me you’re the only one touching me and leaving fingerprints.” He griped, a hand pressing to his collarbone where Julian’s teeth laid claim. “I’ll never hear the end of this from Lliana, you know.” 

“Mhm." Julian smirked; but it was his fake one. The one usually reserved for interviews and journalists. 

They settled into silence. Noel contemplated everything that had happened this evening. His show and all the support of his friends, his little episode in the bathroom followed by Julian's comforting presence. He wasn't saying this was an acrobatic expression of gratitude for just being a good friend, but he perhaps is saying, despite being the chatty one saying exactly what you mean can be a bit difficult. 

So when Noel can’t find the words, he slid up Julian's body and kissed him with an intensity that should have died with their orgasms. All he can do is pray Julian understands him. smiling joyfully into the action. Julian almost certainly understood him just as he understood Julian.

Julian chuckled into the kiss; full and warm, and Noel is content that some of his message must have gotten through. 

Sometimes you can say all you need to say with no words at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do want to thank, once more, my wonderful Boosh Wife @SilentOrator for not only encouraging me but kicking my arse (and bribing me) when I start things and don't finish them. I hope I have not brought dishonour on hour marriage with this mess!

**Author's Note:**

> As ever find me on tumblr: 
> 
> @queen-boo / @anciientboosh


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